Airyanna Dehar
by Connie Tinkham
Summary: About a girl who has a tough life and meets a guy...review after u read plz


_POP!_

"Crap!" I screamed at my bike tire as I skidded to a stop before I was forcefully taken off the road by my newly ruined bike tire. I got off my bike, laid it on the ground entirely, and looked at it.

"Crap," I said again. The bike tire and the tube beneath were both loose on the wheel, and pinned by a long and rusty nail. I thought a loooong line of curses in my head, not even seeing the point of trying to get them all out of my mouth; they'd all come out at once and I wouldn't be able to talk for a moment or two.

Yanking the nail out of the wheel and throwing it off the road, I picked my bike up and began walking it, and myself, to school. Since I was so close to the school, and I was in high school, and a lot of people drove, people couldn't resist rolling down their windows and saying whatever came to mind.

"Hey, Airyanna, want a lift?" a guy I didn't even know teased.

"Sure, let me put my bike in your car, then make us both late you take me the next half-mile and let me unload it as well, unless you really want to keep it in your back seat all day?" I said sweetly.

A lot of windows rolled up then.

"Hey, Dehar, I can fix that for you after school," the school man-whore said.

"I bet it can get you fixed."

Some people laughed. He rolled up his window scowling.

"Airyanna, you need any help with it after I park?" a girl, again, I didn't even know asked.

"No, I've locked my bike up before."

"Calm down, I was just trying to be nice. I'll try again anyway because I'm a nice person; I know a guy at school who sells bike tires, cheap."

"I'm totally broke." And that wasn't too far off from the truth.

"I'll take care of it; he owes me a favor anyway, and he usually parks right next to me. We'll come by you right after I park, and we'll help you put them on. Is that okay with you?" She didn't keep the sarcasm out of the last part.

"Thanks. I need a way to get to and from school."

"What about a car?"

"Too expensive."

"Carpool?"

"Too far out, which is why we had to have special buses drive out to us when I was in grade school. Our financial situation is less than desirable, but about the bike thing, can I just have the tires and put them in my locker? I know how to put them on and stuff; I've been doing it for like eight years, but I have a thing I have to do for a class, early today."

"I guess; I don't think he'd mind, but you'd owe me at least one favor for this. I'm big on favors."

"All right, but for the future, it can't be anything monetary; I'm a good emergency girl, but I can't get anywhere. If you can get me there, I'm your girl, once."

"For every favor."

"Right. What's your name?"

"Tami, Tammara Racine, but Tami."

"Nice to meet you Tami, but one question; how does everyone know me?"

"Because you pass everyone, every day on that bike," a guy yelled.

"Okay. So if I wore a pink outfit and passed everyone, everyday, would everyone still know me?" I called.

"Maybe; I think it would depend on if it was the same outfit. People started asking who it was on that cheap-looking bike, and how it stayed alive since the fourth grade. People know you, Airyanna Avison Dehar. We don't know much about you, but we figured out your full name in the past eight years, and that your favorite colors are denim, black, navy blue, red, and khaki. That's about it. You are a mysterious woman, but one thing is sure; you're hot."

"Hey!" a slightly high-pitched voiced yelled. Bad on his part. I heard a slap and two "Get out!"s, an "It's my car!" a door slam, and the click-clack of a pair of cheap heels. She came up to the sidewalk.

"Here comes the girl; good luck, because you're the competition and you didn't even know it," Tami said.

"What do I do?"

"Go with it," she said, rolled her window up, and drove up with the line. And just like that, the line of cars seemed normal. Then the guy waved and the heels stopped right behind me. For the third time, crap!

"Leave. Jason. Alone," she said, poking me in the shoulder at the end of each word.

"One, don't touch me, two, I'm guessing Jason is the guy, and three, I don't know him, so it's really easy," I said, holding her little manicured hand in mine. It was surprising how tiny her hand was; I could hold it in mine, and wrap hold her wrist as well. She pulled her other perfectly manicured hand and scratched at my arm to make me let go, which didn't work; I'd endured worse from fences.  
>"Do I look like I care about your cheap little manicured nails that you got from Wal-Mart? I've gotten worse cuts from fences, but you may want to stop before those peel off. Plus, that tickles, and you don't have to worry about me going after...What did you say his name was? Jason? He doesn't seem my type; too city boy." I didn't even bother keeping the implication of "he's interested in girls like you" out of my voice.<br>She stopped digging her nails in my arm; I let go of hers and we walked away like civilzed people. She didn't say another word, even after I implied an insult, after all, how can you insult someone because of something only implied and still be fair?  
>I got to the bike rack to find Tami and a guy with spiked-up hair waiting for me.<br>"Dude, what happened to your arm?" the guy said in a surfer's voice that didn't match his punk-rock. I heard the click-clack of heels passing us. I sighed.  
>"Oh. That's what happened to your arm. I have some tape for that if you want it?" he said.<br>"I can get it; this kind of stuff happens to me all the time," I told him.

"You get your arms scratched up by jealous, angry, teenage girls all the time?" the guy asked, his confusion obvious on his face.

I laughed a little. "No, no, no, I get cuts like this all the time. Can I have those tires; I got held up long enough by the princess of all jealousy, and I really do have to go."

"Actually, I ran out, but I can get them to you tomorrow?"

"Fine. I'll leave my bike here over night, and get rides from my mom, but I really have to go."

"We can drive you," Tami offered.

"No, now move; I have to go."

I went to my chemistry class to help the people who need it, and when the five-minute bell rang, I packed my stuff up and left. The rest of the day went by quick and I called my mom to pick me up.

"Mom, my bike ran over a nail, clean through the tire. Can you come pick me up?"

"What? Who's this? Donna is that you?"

"No, Mom, it's me, Airyanna. Your daughter?"

"Airyanna? What are you doing calling me? You're supposed to be in school."

Oh for the love of all that's good and holy.

"Mom, my tire has a nail through it, and I need to be picked up. Can you take me home?"

"Air, I'm busy right now."

"No, you're not, Mom. You're at the kitchen table, with a bottle of tequila, having a nice depressing time. I'll be walking home, so I'll be walking. Don't get in the car, don't cook, don't do anything that you wouldn't let little Jackie do, okay?" I said, tiredly, but talking quietly enough so no one would hear, loudly enough so I'd be yelling into her ears, slow enough for a drunk to understand, and used the tone used on drunks, old people, children, and all the other flavors of the crazies.

"Hey, you're not the parent here, Airyanna, I am, and you don't tell me what to do!"

"How many have you had, Mom?"

"Just one."

"Plus?"

"I said just one!"

"Fine. Try not to crash the car again; you know we can't afford to keep totaling cars, especially if it's because you're drunk or high. I'm at the school; drive right, don't fall asleep, and please just get here within the hour."

"Hey!"

"Don't 'hey!' me; I'm saying exactly what I need to say. I am not leaving anything out, or adding anything extra. You have fallen asleep before, you have taken over three hours to get here before, and you don't usually drive right, so at least drive mostly within the law."

"Fine. You're at the school?"

"Yeah. I'll be waiting inside, so if you don't see me right away, that's why."

"All right. I'll be there soon enough."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Watch it!"

"What? You said that, even when I was waiting for three hours. Soon enough for you can be any amount of time, from an hour to a year."

"Hey, I'll be there."

"How about be here before an hour and a half has passed?"

She was quiet for a minute. I didn't say anything because I knew she was thinking.

"Fine, but I may be close, seeing as I'm such good friends with this bottle. That's a total of fer drinks now, hon. I'll be there, kay?"

"Okay Mom."

I hung up the phone and hung it up before I threw it against the wall; it was a school phone. If it was my own, I wouldn't care because I would've bought one sturdy enough for my stress, but these crappy things will break if you drop them on the ground. I started to walk away to wait outside, but forgot my stuff. I kicked the brick wall when I had everything. I kicked it over and over and over again because I was tired of my life.

"You okay, kid?" someone behind me asked.

"NO!" I shouted, then took a breath. "I'm fine. Sorry."

"You're not okay, but I'm going to let you keep kicking the wall."

"No, with the power of my legs, I may break them."

"They're brick."

"I know," and since everyone knew me, I turned around.

"Wait, you're that girl who bikes to school, Airyanna, right?"

"Yeah. You got a baseball?"

"No, but I believe you about the brick thing; you've been biking here and home since fourth grade."

"Really? I didn't know," I said, the statement dripping with sarcasm. "Do you know where Mr. W is?"

"Yeah; he usually stays after school-"

"I know that, but do you know where he is?"

"Running."

"Thanks."

I ran out to track; I was thinking about doing that anyway, but that wasn't why I was here. I saw Mr. W, one of the P.E. teachers, and my favorite teacher in the school, and caught up to him no problem, even though he was on the other side of the track. I caught up to him, and I ran along the track.

"Hey, Dehar, you got that look on your face that says you're looking for something from me, not for a chat or anything. What do you need?" the old-ish man said with a smile. He reminded me of a really fit Santa Claus...until he got mad, then he didn't.

"I want a baseball."

"A baseball?"

I nodded, one deep nod. "A baseball."

"Why?"

"I need a new one and I'm going to be bored for the next hour and a half. A baseball will entertain me, and help with stress...plus it will tick my mother off," I said the last part with a smile.

"I always did like that about you."

"What? That I like to do things that tick my mother off? You'll find yourself-"

"No, that you don't even say 'piss'; you say 'tick' instead. You don't cuss; I like that in students, 'cause it's refreshin'. If you let me win the next lap, then you can have your baseball."

"You have a trick up your sleeve, Santa Claus."

"Who, me?"

We ran to the track line, which was fairly slanted for the ovular shape of it.

"Ready-set-go!" he said, but slurred the words together so that he got a little head start. I got it; I had to let him, so even if he won, I would have to let him; I wouldn't be able to be trying to win. Great.

We ran, and he let me let him win...or something. Basically, he let me win the deal for the ball. We went down to the equipment room and he told me to pick a ball, using such a graceful bow that he almost did a face-plant on the concrete. I picked the dirtiest ball in the shed, but not the crappiest one. If I scrubbed it clean, it could pass for a scuffed-up, brand-new ball, but that's not what I wanted; I liked my stuff to look kinda dirty and worn.

"Thanks, Mr. W! I'll be sure to whoop everyone else's butts in class, but I won't lose this ball; it'll get pulled apart before it gets lost. That's why I needed a new one; a dog ripped my old one apart, which had to be thrown out anyway. I'm going to run a few laps, and then I'm going to go back to waiting out front."

Worry lines showed on his face.

"For your mom?"

I sighed. "Yeah, for my mom. I know you guys think she abuses me, but she doesn't."

"Psychologically? Verbally?"

"No. She irritates the hell out of me, and she doesn't pay the bills as often as she should, and I'm saving money up for a good college so that I can get out of here, but other than that, she's a perfectly civil human being. I would not trust her to be responsible enough to watch a young child, and I have had to raise myself practically, but I am turning out okay. Let me run now, Mr. W, then let me wait."

He was quiet for a moment. I rocked on my heels because I didn't know what the silence meant, so I didn't know what to do.

"Will she be driving you home, or you her, when she gets here?"

Ah, code for 'is your mother drunk?'

"I will be driving, if she lets me."

"What do you mean 'if she lets you'?"

Code for 'will she hit you if you're disrespectful.'

"I mean, we still have a normal parent-child relationship, not a democracy one. I can't force her to do anything, nor her me. I can insist that she shouldn't be driving, but Mr. W, the most physical contact I have ever had with my mother, that I can remember, is a few hugs, and that's because I've never been big into hugging."

"Every kid likes hugging," he said in a tone that said that what I had just said was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"That's like saying every boy plays baseball, and every girl likes pink. Let me run, let me wait, and leave my mother alone."

"Alright, for now though. I don't like her."

"Neither do I, but I stay away from her as much as I can. Let me run, then-"

"Let you wait, all right, all right, I got it, I'm going."

I ran two-and-a-half miles and went to the front of the school again to wait for my mother. My average mile time is about six minutes, and I usually hit that every time; that happened again.

It had been about an hour since I called my mom. I calculated the times. Probably around five minutes with the kid who saw me kicking the wall, ten minutes talking and then racing Mr. W, ten minutes finding a baseball, five more minutes talking again with Mr. W, and my fifteen minutes around the track. I did the math and if it was all exact, I was gone for forty-five minutes. I looked at the clock, and I was gone for forty-six minutes, but I was close enough to be impressive.

I went out to the front of the school, baseball in hand, backpack and binder in one arm. I set my pack down on a bench and got out my baseball cap that I wore when it rained; it was Washington and I rode a bike. I liked to have something to have on my head that the wind wasn't going to blow off when it rained.

Starting with my opposite hand, as I had been practicing, I tossed the baseball from hand to cap, hand to cap, hand to cap. Then, it was just tossing hand to hand, or just tossing it up and catching it, or bouncing it on the ground, or off the wall, or putting it down and sitting on the bench.

I waited around for not the next forty minutes as she promised, but the next hour and forty minutes. By the time a car had pulled up, or crashed up, to the sidewalk thing, all my homework was done and I was past bored; I was asleep. I had even gone into each of the teachers' rooms and given them my homework, telling them that I was waiting for my ride, and that she had just gotten held up. We all knew different, but they all pretended to buy the stories I told them because they couldn't do anything else.

"Hi, Mom. How are you?" I said, half-blinded by the headlights.

"Where's your bike? We're taking it down to the shop tomorrow."

"I already got stuff for it from some friends, so I can fix it myself for free," I said getting my stuff.

"You're not doing charity work or drugs, are you?"

"No, Mom, I owe her a favor now, just like you owe everyone you meet a favor."

"Don't get smart with me. I gave birth to you; you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me."

"Don't pull that one; it doesn't work. I really don't give a crap if I'm here or not, because I have to deal with you, now get in the passenger side."

"No!"

"Now!"

"Make me."

"I can if you really want me to; I'm stronger than you, and I have a real good angle from here."

"I could bite you."

"I got a dog bite when I was eight, but that didn't make me let go at first. Back seat, now!"

"Passenger side then."

"You lost it when you said no. Back seat or you walk."

"Fine. I guess I'm getting in the back seat where all the little five-year-olds sit."

"And the drunkards."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. I'm not going to try to make you pass a physical test because you've mastered those, but you are drunk; you made good friends with the tequila bottle. Why did it take you two and a half hours this time? Don't tell me traffic, because it wasn't."

"I passed out."

"Fine. You're going to have to drive me tomorrow too; I can fix my bike, but it'll take a full day, which means the weekend."

"And today is Thursday. All right, but-"

"I owe you too?"

"Yep."

"I HATE NAILS!"

"Why?"

"Because that's what happened to my tire; a nail went straight through the wheel, which is why it isn't a quick fix."

"Well, hurry up. Get in the car; you can get your bike in the car tomorrow, but let's go 'cause it's getting late."

"And who's fault is that?" I said under my breath.

She didn't hear me, otherwise she would have reacted. I drove us home and didn't get stopped, which was good because I don't carry a purse, and I forgot my wallet, and license, at home. When we got home, I stayed up until I was sure my mother was asleep for good, then locked up all the booze and put the key in my wallet. She never looked in my wallet for anything, and I'd be sure to take it with me tomorrow. I glanced at the clock. I shouldn't say 'tomorrow'; I should say 'later in the morning' because it was already past two-thirty. My alarm will go off in about an hour, even though school starts in five hours; it takes me about twenty minutes to get out the door, and then I have to bike to school.

I'd have to wake her up, but I didn't want to just get half an hour of sleep; I could sleep later, and claim that I have to be at school at four o' clock or something. She takes a long time to get out of bed, and it's a forty-five-minute drive to the school; she'll get me there one time. If she is observant enough to see that I lied to her, let her be pissed; I could live with it because it's almost summer and the most that it should do is sprinkle if I have to walk. I should be able to get my bike fixed during the breaks that I have.

At three oh three, my alarm beeped its annoying _beep-beep-beep beep-beep-beep beep-beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

That last one didn't actually end until I turned it off, and I only sometimes heard the first triplet _beep-beep-beep_ but I heard the rest, until I turned it off. I went out, got myself some breakfast, and relaxed like I do on the weekends; I always get up at three in the morning, but I don't usually get to relax on a school day. It is nice, but it'll throw me off. I went and worked out in my room; still relaxing, but more in a familiarity-comfort sort of way than a vacation-comfort sort of way. I work out every day, and if you ask me to show any skin, it shows...any skin except the special girl areas; those are areas that I won't show to people other than those who earn it, which none have yet.

I counted out each rep for each exercise and was sweating by the time I was done. I grabbed a stick of deodorant, a towel, a change of clothes, and headed for my bathroom for a shower.

When I came out, it was about five thirty; time to wake up Mom because it would take her awhile to get out of bed. I marched to her room, on a mission.

"Mom, let's go, you're driving me to school."

"You have your bike," she groaned into the pillow.

"No, my bike has a nail through the wheel at school. I need you to drive me to school. It is five thirty and I have to be there early for chemistry."

"That's today? I thought that was yesterday."

Well at least she keeps track, and remembers. Shit.

"It was, but I have to make sure there's not another one; this counts towards my grade, Mom."

"I know. Get dressed, I'll take you."

"I am dressed; you have to get dressed."

"Oh. Out then, I'll be right out."

"You're hungover from tequila; you won't be able to tell a shirt from a skirt. Let me help you."

She turned around in the bed enough to look at me, as if to see if I was joking or not. I wasn't, and she must've seen it.

"Fine, help me out of bed first."

I laughed and grabbed a towel from the closet next to her door; going from horizontal to vertical never had good results from her. They usually involved puking and dizziness, and I really liked this shirt. I draped the towel over my clothes and walked over to her.

When she was dressed, and she didn't look like 'she dressed herself', we were in the car and since she passed my drunk test, she was driving. I didn't like it, but she insisted.

When we actually got to the school, we were late, arguing, and worse, she crashed up on the sidewalk thing again. If I didn't have the reflexes I had, and if my stuff wasn't in the way, I would have hit my head really hard on the dashboard. I got out, slammed the door, and stomped away from the car. She just sat there for a moment or two. I could imagine her blowing her hair out of her face, but then I heard her skid away.

People crowded up behind and around me.

"Are you okay?"

"Airyanna, what's the matter?"

"Was that your mom?"

"Is that normal for you two?"

"Are you all the freaking paparazzi? Leave off me, okay? I'm fine; who doesn't have a crazy mother, and who doesn't have fights with them?" I spun around and said louder than I should have. Yelled is a better word for it; I didn't say it, I yelled it.

School flew by again, but I wanted it to be really, really slow; I did _not_ want to go home, because that meant that I had to see my mother. I liked school; it was safe, had rules, no one disliked me, or really noticed me. I drew no attention to myself, or I thought I didn't, and no one, except the jealous girlfriend doesn't like me. The school was safe and I learned things, and I liked the environment. Home was safe, but I hated my mother. She was an irresponsible drunk who has no business being a parent. Today is the first of the month; I wonder if there will be any lights when I get home? Does it matter? I learned how to make lemon-powered, and potato-powered technology; I am trying to convince my teacher to teach me how to power higher-tech stuff than what lemons and potatoes can power, but I don't know if he will.

I called her for a ride. The phone rang, and rang.

"Hello?" a groggy, tired voice answered after I swore the answering machine would get it.

"Mom, I need a ride home."

"Sorry, hon, I can't; I'll fall asleep at the wheel if I can get over this headache."

"So how am I supposed to get home?"

"A friend?"

"I'm a total loner, and even if I wasn't, I know the price of gas; I wouldn't ask someone to drive all the way out there unless they wanted to. I don't ride with strangers."

"Cab?"

"No money."

"So steal some."

"No. I might be able to beg off bus money, but-"

"No, no daughter of mine will beg; I heard enough of that from my own mother, and I don't want it from you."

I knew that; it was why I didn't accept favors unless I wasn't aware I was accepting them. I didn't want to be like my mother. My mother didn't care if I was like her, but she didn't want to be like her parents, and wouldn't let me be like them either; they swore too much, so there was no swearing in our house, no begging for things so we didn't say please, and a few more. Of course, both her parents were alcoholics beyond repair and she swore she would be nothing like them, but she was on a quick and steady path to the need to attend AA meetings. She won't, but she'd need to. I guess I wouldn't be getting a ride home, but at least it's sunny out and it's...raining. I get to walk a very long walk home, in the rain. I haven't walked home before; I don't mind biking home in the rain, but walking in the rain sucks.

I headed out the doors. Someone called after me, asking me why I was going outside; it's pouring. I kept walking as if they hadn't said anything. I entered the little world I made when I was too young to understand why the man in the house was hitting Mommy. I went to that place that blocked out everything else except what was right in front of me. That focus used to be my teddy bear named Sarah; now, it's the road. How much fun life can be, huh?

I kept counting the landmarks for every mile I went; there were forty, and I usually couldn't count them all one at a time since I was on a bike, but now I'm walking. Landmarks, and now I'm on number nineteen, and it's probably been around two and a half hours. That's even my average walking mile time, weird huh? Not.

A car came up behind me, and slowed.

"Hey, you want a ride," they asked.

"No."

"It's raining."

"My house is just over there," I said, pointing to the neighborhood about two miles away.

"Well, let me take you over."

"I'm good."

"It's raining."

"I like the rain."

"You're soaked through."

"I love the rain."

"You're going to get sick."

"I don't take rides from strangers."

"Fine, go to your house, but at least let me see you safely to it."

Crap. "Why are you so concerned?"

"Because I know you don't live there, Airyanna. You live about, what, twenty miles from here? What were you planning on doing about that?"

"Who the hell are you, how do you know my name, and how do you know where I live?"

"It's me, Leo, and I figured out where you live because I'm smart," he said, stopping the car and getting out.

"Who?"

"I'm in like all of your classes. You actually don't notice me. Let me give you a ride home."

"Crap, are you that girl?"

"What? I'm not a girl."

"No, no, I mean the stereotype girl, the one who goes to the guy's games, or his concerts, and she says he goes for her brother, but she is really there for him? Are you that girl?"

"Um, I'm not a girl, you don't have any games or concerts or anything I can stalk you at, or anything like that, but other than that, maybe, I guess. Get in the car; I'll take you home, unless you truly want pneumonia, or wish to commit suicide?"

"I was actually thinking about running a few miles?"

He looked at me funny.

"I'm serious; the rain would cool me off and I won't smell afterwards. Wait for me, like at the place the willow trees."

"Oh, yeah, I landmark that spot too."

"It's noticeable, and I bike to school everyday, but I just like willow trees. Wait for me there; it's about three miles, and since it's rain, I'll be faster than usual because I love to run in the rain. I will be soaked though, so I'm sorry."

"It's okay; the front seat is where my dog sits all the time, even when he has just rolled in a pile of mud," he had a smile on his face like he was remembering the day his dog rolled in a pile of mud. "You're not allergic to dogs, are you?"

"I love dogs!"

"I'll take that as a yes. See you in what, twenty-five minutes?"

"You'll see how long it takes me, but here's a timer; time me," I said, digging my timer out of my backpack as I threw it in his car; I figured it'd wind up in there eventually and if I was going to run, the backpack would only weigh me down.

"When do I-"

"Start!"

I ran like the wind, Bulls-Eye, to the two willow trees. I'm glad that my timer has a quick start thing because he totally wasn't expecting that. I'll add three to five seconds to my time for failure on his part to get the timer started, but still I will be getting a ride home. The car passed me, which is good, otherwise he wouldn't know when to stop the timer and neither would I.

I came to the willow trees, touching both hands to a trunk of one of them, breathing hard. I heard a beep the moment the car saw me coming from close distance. I'd have to add a few more seconds for that, but not many; how many seconds would it have taken me to get from behind the car to the curtain of the willow?

"How'd I do?" I breathed.

"Eleven minutes and thirty-four seconds. That's less than a four-minute-mile. That's amazing; is that your usual?"

I tipped my head toward the rain and shook my head.

"I told you, I run faster in the rain. My usual is a six-minute-mile."

"Still impressive," he said, and he sounded like he meant it.

"Come on, take me home, like you said. Now, what did you say your name was? I'm really sorry I don't remember you, but I will now."

"You only get a ride if-"

"No, I don't do bribes or favors, and I don't usually make deals; yes or no."

"So it's either I give you a ride and risk you not even knowing me, or you walking the next twenty miles in the rain? You've been walking for the past three hours, and it looks like you're only wet. You have some immune system."

"Yep, so ride or not?"

"Will you remember me in the morning?"

"You're quoting 'Click'? Really? I'll walk if you won't let me in; I have no problem with it."

He sighed, defeated.

"Get in."

"Thank you."

I got in, and apologized a lot for soaking his seat and for not noticing him in school; I really did feel bad about it. He said it was fine, and I wasn't sure I believed him about the seats and I definitely didn't believe him about the school, but didn't say anything; a rarity for me.

"Do you even know where I live?" I asked when I was done apologizing.

He grinned. "Would it creep you out if I said yes?"

I grimaced. "It would creep a lot of people out if people who they didn't know knew where they lived."

He laughed. "Well then it's a good thing that I only know the general area where you live, meaning I know that you live in one of the five neighborhoods that the buses don't go to, but only our school takes. That's a pretty big area, so you're going to have to tell me where exactly you live."

"You're going a long way out of your way to take me home; why? Not many people would do that; they might give some money for a cab, but that's about it."

He smiled, but it wasn't a very happy one. "Because I live in one of those neighborhoods too, so it's not very out of the way for me. I was staying after for homework today, and when I saw you walking, I figured you didn't have a ride home. I'm a nice guy, and this is cheap and I get to spend the next twenty minutes with a pretty girl."

"Flattery gets you nowhere with me."

"So you're one of those girls. I like them; they can survive the streets."

"Since I live in the worst streets you'll run into around here, one would hope so."

"Oh, so you live in Eagle Canyon. That's gotta be fun; I live in Spring Hills."

"Ah, you live on the safe side. You wouldn't be able to tell if someone was carrying a knife unless it was sticking out, right?"

"Nope. How many are you carrying?"

"None, but I used to carry half a dozen when times were real bad; things have calmed, but you don't want to mess with me. I live on D street, number 647. It's at the very end and if you are looking at the crappy meter, or having a competition for who has the crappiest house, mine would win. You can't miss it; the awful paint chips and missing chunks from the lawn glow like a beacon, even in this light," I said looking out the window; it was getting grey and dark out, so it might be dark by the time Leo got to the house."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad."

"That's what the girl always says to the worried guy when they're going to meet a friend, or event, or something, and then whatever it is shows up, and it really is that bad or worse. Just trust me on this one, okay?"

"Why do you keep comparing me to a girl? I am not a girl."

"I know you're not a girl, but you keep on getting girls' roles for some reason; I don't know why. Get a guys' role, and then you won't complain."

"What's a guys' role?"

"One that doesn't complain."

"Are you PMS-ing?"

"Typical guys' question. There you go, but I hate it when guys ask that question. Just because I get annoyed about something, or even seem to be annoyed about something, doesn't automatically mean I'm PMS-ing."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, but I hate that question."

"When we get there, am I coming in, or what?"

"Do you actually _want_ to come in? And meet my crazy, possibly drunk, definitely hungover, mother?"

"Well when you put it that way..."

"Yes or no?"

"I don't care either way."

"Well you have to decide; I can't decide this for you."

He was quiet for a few heartbeats; a wild guess told me he was thinking it over.

He took a deep breath and said, "Sure, I guess I want to come in."

"Okay, but what I want you to wait out front in the car first. I'm going to leave my stuff in the car as an excuse, then when I'm through with the worst of the arguing with my mother; five to fifteen minutes, I'll come tell you if it's safe for you to come in. Take my word for it, okay. You can come over some other time if you want to, especially if you can't come over tonight, but if I say that you shouldn't come in, make up some excuse like you have a strict curfew or something. Don't say anything about homework; she'll just say you can do it here. She respects other parenting stuff like curfews and groundings, and even 'strict parents' code for beatings. She won't want you to go if you say you have strict parents, but she will let you. She will be over-protective of you and may call CPS for you though; she had strict parents and she hates knowing that others have strict parents too. If there's screaming or yelling, especially a man yelling, do not, under any circumstances, come inside; you will get hurt. I know how to deal with these situations."

"What situations?"

"The ones that you won't-"

"Be coming inside to check on. Okay."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

We drove, and he seemed to know these neighborhoods like he drove here everyday. I didn't think he did; some people are just natural navigators. Maybe he was one of them; I didn't ask, because I didn't care, and when he pulled into my driveway, he whistled.

I grinned. "I told you so."

"Yeah. Yeah, you sure did. This really is a piece of crap."

I punched him in the shoulder and dug out my keys, then went up to the door. Before I closed the door, I heard a "Damn, girl, you hit hard; that hurt." I smiled, because it was true and it felt good hearing it.

I unlocked the door and walked inside the house. My mother was sitting at her usual spot; the kitchen table.

"You're out past curfew," she said, her voice thick with booze.

"Yeah, you wouldn't give me a ride."

"Who'd you get a ride from?"

"A friend from school."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Leo."

"Is Leo your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. Go to bed, Mama. Sleep this shit off. You've-"

"No cussing in this house; I heard it in my house far too much. I will not stand for cussing in my house, not from me, and not from my daughter. If you bring guests over, I had better not hear it from them either."

"Fine, but cut out this drinking stuff. Go to bed and sleep it off; where'd you get the key in the first place?"

She held up a key ring. They looked like the same key printed about fifty times; she got into the liquor whenever she wanted to with that key ring because she had basically an unlimited supply of them, until I took them away. She must have read my mind because she snatched them back and put them down her shirt. I would never put my hand down my mother's shirt.

"Mom, go get some sleep, and put the bottle back in the cabinet."

"Why?"

"If it's empty, then put it in the garbage. I have to get my stuff from Leo's car; can he come in?"

"Sure, but since I have to go to bed, and since this headache is so intense, be quiet."

"Sure."

I made sure I had my keys still and went out to Leo to invite him in. The 'argument' was surprisingly much calmer than I thought it would be.

Leo and I were playing cards when I heard the door slam open.

"Debra!" a man yelled. "Come on baby, we never finished from the other day."

I looked at Leo.

"Stay here."

"Is this what you were telling me about earlier?"

I bit my lip, furrowing my eyebrows, then nodded.

I ran to my door and slammed it open.

"Andrew, I doubt she'd be any good right now anyway; she's only half-drunk. Now get out of my house!"

"And since when did you become man of the house?" he said; it was a challenge.

"There's not really a such thing anymore; it's not the eighteen-hundreds anymore."

"Debra, I'm going to kill your daughter unless you come out and greet me!"

"She's not only half-drunk, but hungover and comatose. She won't do you any good right now."

"Well then I'll just have to kill you, now won't I?"

"Maybe I can kill you," I said. I'd been lying about not carrying any knives; I had eight on me, plus I grabbed a gun from an angle Leo couldn't see.

"Really?" he laughed. His laugh was more of an unpleasant wheezing noise that ground against my ears and made my spine shiver a little.

I pulled a good-sized knife from somewhere.

"Really," I said matter-of-factly.

He chuckled. It still had a trace of wheeziness, but it wasn't as bad. My spine still shivered.

"What about this?" He held out a gun.

"Impressive. Mine's better."

He looked confused. Good; I threw the knife and got the gun while the knife went soaring through the air. I shot him twice in the chest before he realized entirely what I was doing, then when he did, I got shot twice as well; once in the hand, and once a deep graze at my calf. Leo called the cops and an ambulance, then woke my mother. She saw that I would be fine, then went into hysterics about Andrew. Leo hugged me through while I stared at my mother in contempt. He kept hugging me while the police questioned me, and I wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort more; me or himself.

I spent about a week in the hospital, with Leo coming by every day after school to see me; he was like a brother or a puppy or a boyfriend. We hadn't gone on an official date, but we kinda already had a relationship hanging in the air, sort of.

I had a hearing in two weeks, but I wouldn't be going to court like in Law and Order or anything, but I just had to make it clear that it wasn't exactly murder, but I kept questioning myself and my lawyer; wasn't it? I killed a man unprovoked, not even verbally. He didn't threaten me or harm me or anyone around me, except in the past. My lawyer said to use the past ten years of him coming in and abusing my mother, and displaying the exact same behavior that night, as the reason for shooting him. He also threatened me with a gun. I didn't want to go to jail for manslaughter and I hated Andrew with the very depths of my soul, but I still believed that what I did was murder.

I had to get away from my mother too; I didn't care where I went, as long as it wasn't some sunshiny-cheery place that believed in rainbows and ponies and flower-power and the color pink, or a cardboard box, I had to get away. She had gone into hysterics when her extremely abusive boyfriend who wasn't even hers, not really, was dead, but not when her daughter had suffered gunshot wounds and possible psychological damage. I left that house and stayed with friends for a few weeks until I found a job.

When I finally found a job, it wasn't quite legal, but not quite illegal and it that paid well enough for a crap apartment. Surprisingly enough, it was a better place than my mother's old place. I called Leo over, and he liked it, said it was, and I quote "Um...It's...cozy. A little small, but cute, and cozy, kinda like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves." I told him to stuff it and that he should go make the birds go help him make me a pie; I sucked at cooking and he was great at it. He laughed and said no; I shrugged it off, oh well.

I wasn't going to jail and I had what seemed like a nice, steady relationship with a nice, sane (feminine) guy, who wasn't abusive and wasn't into anything that affected your brain (pills, other drugs, drinking, etc.) and I hoped it lasted.

(P.S. this is where Bugs Bunny pulls down the screen and brings on the credits)


End file.
